Now That's What I Call Romance

Last night I had that type of dream where you are trying to wake up but you can't quite wake up all the way, but as a result become intermittently aware that you are dreaming. This happens to me kind of a lot - I think it has to do with my medication.

Anyway, I was trying to make a Journey Towards Wakefulness - that's how my brain chose to conceptualize this struggle - and as I did all this, crawling under half-built buildings, hacking through mangrove swamps and climbing out the windows of a haunted house while pursued by my aunt's neighbors, you know, Just Dreaming Things - I was accompanied by waxjism acting more-or-less in character: snarky asides, the occasional baffled question or apparently falling into an introspective daze and having to be dragged or prodded along.

So at one point me'n'Wax ran into some girls I'd known in high school and one of them was like, "Yeah, but since you're dreaming and trying to wake up, that's not the real Wax, it's just an imaginary one."

And I said defensively, "I KNOW, but I just like to keep her with me!" and clutched protectively at her arm.

Then they went away eventually and I confided in dream Wax, "It's just always nicer if you're here."

Dream!Wax: "Yeah sure."
Real!Wax, being told: (laughed so hard she threw her head back.)